Page 48 of Mr. B

He laughed. “I’m kidding. How about we go watch the young, strong football players haul wood to the fire pit?”

“That I can do.”

“I just need to grab my guitar.”

They returned to the cabin, and Wes stopped in front of his door. “You should probably bring a sweater or a jacket. It’s going to cool off as soon as the sun goes down.”

“I’ll go grab something.”

She went into her room, and Wes went into his. He put on a jacket, tucked a beanie into his pocket, then picked up his guitar. He heard her go into the bathroom, so he went outside to wait. She came out a few minutes later, wearing a jacket and a plaid flannel scarf around her neck.

“Will this work?”

“That should be fine.”

They headed for the fire pit where Lester was rearranging a pile of split pine in the middle of it. The boys who had helped him were sitting nearby watching. There was a pile of wood beside the pit, too.

Wes walked over to them. “Thanks, gentlemen.”

“Yes, sir, Mr. B.”

“Should we bring more?”

“It’s supposed to rain for a while, so let’s leave it at that. Otherwise, you might be hauling it back to the shed when we’re done.” He left them and returned to Cassandra. “Take a seat in one of these chairs close to the fire before the kids come out.”

“What happened to camp is about the kids?”

“It doesn’t apply when it involves staying warm by the fire. In that case, old people come first.”

“Speak for yourself, mister.”

“Like it or not, we’re the same age, Cassandra.”

She dropped into a chair. “I don’t feel old.”

Wes sat next to her. “We’re not old. We’re…unyoung.”

“So, there’s still hope?”

“For what?”

Cassandra zipped up her jacket and tucked her scarf into it, then shrugged. “Just hope in general.”

Chapter twelve

“I’m covered with…ceiling.”

The fire was burning well and putting out heat by the time the kids arrived. They mingled on the grass around the pit, standing in small groups or sitting in chairs, on benches, or on blankets. Wes gave them a few minutes to settle in, then stood in front of the fire.

“Welcome to the first night of Senior Camp. As you all know, seniors from Bridgeport High have been coming to Blueberry Lake every September for over twenty years. The coach and I both attended.” He glanced at Lester. “Not to age anyone, but I believe Coach attended the very first camp.”

The kids laughed, and Lester called out. “And proud of it!”

“Most of you have siblings who have attended. My five brothers all attended, but I was the first, so I filled them in.”

One of the boys from the football team raised his hand. “I heard one of your brothers got kicked out of camp.”

Wes laughed. “I’m afraid so.”